#chasing waves

Chapter 2: Team

It’s some time in the middle of the night -- or really early morning -- when Gabe wakes up and wanders into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He finds his dad pacing around, running one hand through his hair like he usually does when he’s agitated. The other hand presses his phone to his ear.

“You’ve called 9-1-1 already, yes?” Dad nods, humming. “Okay. Mamá, I’m going to call Javi. We’ll take separate cars and drive around. He can’t be too far. We’re going to find him, okay? Mamá, please get some sleep. Everything is going to be fine. We’re going to find him. He’s going to be okay. Te quiero.”

Dad hangs up and breathes a deep sigh.

“Dad?” Gabe mumbles, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

His dad turns around, startled. “Gabe? What are you doing up so late?”

“I just woke up,” Gabe replies. He rubs the sleepiness from his eyes and squints in the dim light. Light sheen of sweat reflects off his dad’s forehead. His jaw is clenched tightly. “Is everything okay? What’s going on?” Gabe asks.

“Your abuelo… ” Dad pauses and inhales before continuing. “He’s gone.”

Gabe is instantly awake. A pang of dread hits his stomach. He swallows hard. “Gone? What do you mean, ‘gone?’”

“We don’t know where he is,” his dad clarifies. “Your abuela woke up and he wasn’t in the house. She found the front door wide open, but nothing’s been taken. No signs of forced entry. But it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” For a moment, he wonders if his dad is repeating those words more for himself rather than for Gabe. “I think your abuelo might have wandered off.”

“Wandered off?”

His dad looks down, folding his arms across his chest. Gabe swears his dad’s eyes are shinier now than a few seconds ago. “We took him to the doctor a few days ago. He has Alzheimer’s disease, mijo.”

Gabe nods slowly. It’s strange -- the news didn’t exactly surprise nor shock him. But to hear the words from his dad’s mouth -- to hear a confirmation, a name to all the signs Gabe had sort of picked up over the years -- settled his stomach with dread. Gabe can’t pinpoint exactly when he started to notice, but Pipo had definitely become a little more withdrawn and quiet over the years -- which, at first, Gabe had thought it to be increasing tiredness because, you know. Old people things. There were also times he’d be talking to Pipo, and Pipo would ask how his day was... again. Or repeat the same sentence right after saying it. It didn’t happen too often, so Gabe had merely shrugged it off and chalked it up to occasional forgetfulness, because God knows he forgets his own name around attractive girls sometimes.

But his internal alarm sounded some time ago in the recent past, when Pipo had accused Gabe of stealing his watch, even though Gabe was 1. nowhere near his abuelo when his watch disappeared and 2. not exactly a professional thief (he doesn’t even steal anyway?). They later found it sitting in the fridge, on top of a container of leftovers. Gabe remembered the way his dad and his uncle exchanged worried looks that day.

Dad sighs. “I should have listened to Javi,” he murmurs to himself, “I should have brought Pa to the doctor sooner…” His voice cracks, and for a moment it seems like Dad is about to cry. Gabe panics. What does he do? He’d never seen Dad cry before. Ever. But his dad recovers instantly, with hardened eyes and furrowed brows.

“Dad…”

“We’ve already called and notified the police,” his dad goes on, uninterrupted. “I’m going to call your uncle. You should go back to sleep.”

“I can help search,” Gabe offers. He can drive now. It only makes sense -- three men can cover more ground than two. He can help.

“Your uncle and I are handling this,” Dad replies. “Go back to sleep.”

“It’s 4 AM, and I’m already awake-”

“-Which is why you need to go back to bed.”

“But Dad-”

“Do not argue with me on this, mijo,” his dad warns calmly, his voice rumbling low and deep. “Your uncle and I are handling it. End of discussion.”

Gabe looks his dad in the eye, and is met with a look of intense determination that Gabe has known all his life. There’s no way he can win this. Gabe slumps his shoulders in defeat. “Fine,” he quietly concedes, and stalks back to his room.

---

Gabe balances the box of cassette tapes in his lap. It weighs a lot more than he expects it to. Now that he thinks about it, Gabe definitely remembers seeing more boxes of tapes lying around Yaya and Pipo’s house. He’d honestly never really noticed them, the way you don’t actively notice walls and doors and other fundamental things.

He watches the world outside rush by him, set ablaze by the sunset. Kate has a closing shift, so it’s just him and Mari with Dad today. Gabe glances sideways, sneaking a peek at his dad and finds himself unsurprised at how the bags under his dad’s eyes seem heavier than usual. Gabe knows his dad took an earlier shift so they could all visit Pipo. These visits are important to Dad.

Gabe watches as they pass a perfectly manicured lawn, on top of which sits a familiar sign: MOONSTAR CARE RESIDENCE. He knows how much Dad doesn’t like this (“A man belongs with his family,” Dad had always said). But Gabe supposes it must be for the best. It’s clear that Yaya could not longer look after Pipo all by herself, and there was also no way in hell she’d ever leave his side either, so Javi and Dad figured that selling the house would help pay for the nursing home and Pipo’s treatments. When the doors closed for the final time, Gabe had turned his head away and cried silently, mourning the loss of house he’d spent nearly all of his childhood in.

After checking in with reception, they walk to Yaya and Pipo’s suite -- Gabe carries the box of tapes, his dad an old boombox, and Mari a sleek wooden case containing domino tiles. Dad knocks on the door, and Yaya answers. Dad greets her quietly, kissing her on the forehead before entering. Gabe sets down the box to embrace his abuela.

“You grow more handsome every time I see you.” Yaya squishes his cheeks and plants a kiss on his forehead.

“So he was uglier last time?” Gabe hears Mari pipe up.

“Wow.” Gabe shoots her a glare. The only thing stopping him from flipping the bird is that fact that their abuela is standing right in front of him.

Yaya clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “Mija, be nice to your brother.” Mari only shrugs before moving to hug her.

Gabe rolls his eyes and picks up the box before stepping inside the room. He finds his abuelo sitting in an armchair. Dad has pulled up a chair beside him, and is speaking softly to him. Gabe watches Pipo, whose arms fold across his chest. His face wears an uncharacteristically sullen look. Pipo occasionally glances at Dad and nods at some of his comments, but the blank look in his eyes indicate his lack of investment in the conversation.

Passiveness. Withdrawal. Depression. Gabe recalls a few of the symptoms from a brief internet article. This seems wrong, Gabe decides, wrong as if the sun had suddenly started rising from the west . His Pipo laughed loud and boisterously, and made wry, witty remarks in rapid-fire Spanish. But his laughter and remarks had grown quieter and less frequent over the years. Gabe’s chest twinges, and for a moment he wants nothing but to hug his abuelo, to squeeze him tight and shield him from all of this, somehow.

“Pipo,” Gabe gently interjects. “We brought you your music.”

Pipo looks up at that. Gabe and Mari set up the boombox, and Gabe grabs a random tape from the box. Discoteca reads the label. Vibrant horns and catchy beats soon fill the room. A soft smile grows on Pipo’s face.

“We brought your dominoes too, Pipo,” Mari says. “We can play a game if you want.”

Pipo nods. “Gracias, mis hijos. You two never fail to bring me a smile.” His fond smile turns into the familiar, playful smirk Gabe knows and loves about his abuelo. “But are you two ready to lose to this old man for the millionth time? You know I’ll always be the Domino Champion of the Garcia clan.”

Mari giggles, beaming. “Pipo, you’re silly!”

Mari’s laughter is so infectious Gabe can’t help but chuckle too. He catches his dad’s gaze, who smiles at him gratefully. Gabe smiles back.

They get back home a lot later than Gabe had expected. Although he managed to complete a good chunk of his reading for his AP World History class back at the Gordons’ house, there’s still a bit left to do. Gabe sets his textbooks and the History Bowl study guide on the dining table and gets to work.

He hears the sound of dial tones coming from the kitchen, and then his dad’s voice saying, “Paul. Hey. It’s David. How are you and Clint?” Gabe is momentarily caught off-guard. Paul, as in his supervisor Paul from work? No, can’t be. We know too many Pauls, Gabe thinks to himself as he mentally runs through a list of Pauls the family knows. Must be Dr. Paul Lingard. One of Dad’s friends from the military. The army doctor.

Gabe hears his dad exchange a few pleasantries and bits of small talk over the phone, which he tries to block out as he shifts his focus back to his homework. Gabe manages to concentrate for a few more moments, but his ears can’t help but catch his dad say, “Yes, I’m aware that there’s no known cure. I just… I don’t know, Paul. I need to believe.” A pause. “Paul, I’m fine. I don’t need…” Another pause. “My father is the one who’s suffering, Paul. Not me. But thank you. I appreciate it.”

Gabe decides he can’t concentrate any longer, so he grabs his stuff and heads to his room, plopping down his textbooks and notebooks on his desk before sitting down to continue working on them.

His alarm clock screams like a banshee’s wail straight from the depths of hell. Gabe lifts his head, one side of his face gone completely numb. He hisses, bringing a hand to massage the back of his neck where it twinges painfully. When his vision comes into focus, Gabe notices his notebooks laying strewn before him. A spot of drool on the cover of his textbook.

“You’ve got to me shitting me,” Gabe mutters to himself bitterly as he gets up from his desk, his entire body feeling sore. He groans when he realizes he’s still in his clothes from yesterday. Gabe feels instant relief when he slams the off button of his alarm clock, grateful for the absence of the hellish noise that was just beating him upside the head. Gabe massages his temples, questioning the reason for his existence before grabbing another change of clothes and heading to the bathroom to shower.

Gabe’s hair is still soaked when he dashes out the door (not before pulling on his beanie in hopes of concealing this fact). He pushes fervently on his skateboard, praying the wind will somehow dry his hair by the time he reaches school. When he passes by Duck’s house, Gabe waves to his best friend, who’s sitting on the porch.

Duck waves back, rolling his eyes as he hops on his own skateboard. “Bout time, Garcia.”

“ETA?” Gabe calls out.

“We’ll be five or ten minutes late, maybe?” Duck waves his hand dismissively. “But fashionably late, as always.”

“You know you could always go ahead.”

Duck laughs. “I actually just got of the house by the time you came around.”

Gabe snorts, chuckling. “Yeah, I figured.”

“Wow.”

“Last one who reaches school owes the winner pudding?” Gabe challenges.

“Oh, you’re on. But wait -- I gotta film this. ” Duck glides toward the curb to step off his skateboard. He fishes his camcorder from his backpack -- a small, handheld model that’s outdated but still got the job done. Gabe remembers the excited flurry of texts Duck had sent him when he finally found an affordable camcorder in good condition that still functioned, dramatically proclaiming a victory after having spent weeks hunting in the local thrift shops.

Gabe has to laugh. “You’re bringing your camera with you now?”

“Yeah, man.” Duck shrugs has he turns on his camcorder. “I reached 20,000 subscribers last night, by the way. This is defs going in my ‘thank you’ montage.”

“Grats.”

“Thanks.” Duck sticks his tongue out and furrows his brows in concentration as he fiddles around with the settings. “Hold on. Damn record button isn’t working again.”

“We’re going to be even more late, now,” Gabe points out.

“Wait wait wait.” Duck rapidly clicks the button. “Okay. I got it now.” Duck points the camcorder towards Gabe. “Say hi.”

Gabe waves at the camera.

“Bout to race my best friend to school,” Duck talks to the camcorder. “The loser owes pudding.”

“I prefer chocolate, by the way,” Gabe comments.

“Jackass,” Duck replies cheekily. “Alright. On my mark. Three, two, one, GO!”

The two friends take off, pushing madly at their skateboards. Maniacal laughter and howling echo down the empty street. Gabe’s going so fast his beanie nearly flies off his head. When he nudges ahead of Duck, Gabe executes a kickflip for the camera.

“Show off!” Duck yells.

Gabe cackles loudly. He savours the feel of the wind rushing at him, the sound of concrete screaming under the wheels of his skateboard, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. No amount of coffee could ever beat this sort of thrill.

The two friends are neck and neck when they approach the school. Gabe leans forward, pushing hastily in hopes of cutting his best friend off, but Duck shouts, “I prefer butterscotch!” before managing to burst past him. Gabe rolls his eyes.

Duck twists around, trying to aim the camcorder towards Gabe when his skateboard suddenly shoots out from under him. Duck tumbles, quickly tucking into a roll with practiced ease. His camcorder, however, launches from his hand and onto the concrete, rolling a few times, bits of plastic and glass flying before the camcorder finally skids to a halt.

“Oh shit,” Gabe swears loudly and immediately rushes to his best friend. “Oh my god, are you okay?” He helps Duck onto his feet. “What a wipeout.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Duck rolls his right shoulder a few times, wincing. “I’ll be fine. That’s gonna leave a bruise though.” His face falls when he spots his camcorder lying a few feet away. “Fuck.” Duck picks up his now smashed-up camcorder, rotating it in his hands to examine the damage. “Lenses cracked. A few parts came off.” He hisses in frustration as he brushes his fingertips over the cracks and edges. “Probably can’t film with this again, but I think I can still download the footage.” Duck groans, shoulders drooping. “Well, that’s one way to start off my morning.”

“I’m really sorry about that,” Gabe replies, frowning.

Duck shrugs him off. “It’s not your fault.” He cradles the camcorder in his hands. “Rest in peace, my child. You served me well.” He sighs. “Wow. I am so bummed out right now.”

“Come on, let’s go inside,” Gabe says. “I’ll get you two cups of pudding, okay?”

“Okay,” Duck mumbles, shoulders still slumping.

Gabe makes good on his promise when lunchtime rolls around, but the two cups of pudding only marginally improve Duck’s mood.

After AP World History ends, Mr. Everett asks Gabe, Clementine, and Sarah to stay behind shortly for a quick History Bowl meeting. Gabe says a quick hello to Clementine and Sarah and situates himself closer to them, as the two girls are already sitting next to each other.

“Hey, is Duck okay?” Clementine asks him. “He seems a little moody today.”

“He broke his camcorder this morning,” Gabe replies. “Fell off his skateboard.”

“Oh no,” Sarah comments, wincing. “He didn’t hurt himself too badly, did he? Because that would really suck.”

“He’ll live,” Gabe says. “A few bruises here and there, but he’ll live. His camera though…” Gabe imitates that sound of an explosion (okay, the camcorder didn’t exactly explode, he knows, but it might as well have considering the damage).

“Poor Duck,” Clementine says, frowning. “He really did love that camera.”

“Yeah, he did,” Gabe replies.

“So…” Sarah begins before excitedly asking, “What did you think about today’s lesson, guys?” She claps her hands together, smiling widely. “Genghis Khan, huh? I mean, I totally don’t condone what he did, you know, with all the killing and stuff. But you’ve got admit it’s kind of impressive, building the largest empire and all.”

“It really is,” Gabe admits. “I’m actually surprised that Genghis Khan was really tolerant of other ethnicities and religions? Especially for someone who’s known for killing a lot of people.”

“Right?!” Sarah replies. “People are so weird. History is so weird.” She sighs fondly. “And so awesome.”

Gabe hums in agreement.

Clementine chuckles. “Nerds.”

Sarah nudges her with her elbow. “Okay, Clem, captain of the History Bowl team.”

“Guilty as charged,” Clementine says, raising her hands in defeat.

“Thanks for waiting, everyone,” Mr. Everett addresses them. “I just wanted to let you all know that we’re a little short on funds this year, so there’s going to be a delay in obtaining this year’s study guide.”

“Will it put us at a disadvantage or something if we don’t have the study guides right away?” Gabe asks.

“It might,” Mr. Everett replies. “Last year’s study guides will do for now, just until we can get ahold of this year’s. There are usually a few questions that get repeated from the year before.”

“Will the annual bake sale be enough?” Clementine inquires.

“I believe so, for the study guide at least. And hopefully for the entry fees for Regionals as well,” Mr. Everett responds.

“What about for traveling and hotel costs for when we get into Nationals? And the entry fees for the tournament?”

A smile plays on Mr. Everett’s lips. “You really want to get into Nationals again, do you?”

“I want to win it this time,” Clementine declares.

“I admire your determination, Clementine,” Mr. Everett says with a chuckle. “We’ll have to see how successful the bake sale will be, but until then we should take one step at a time. We should at least figure out obtaining the study guide before worrying about Nationals.”

“Of course.” Clementine nods. “So when can we start the bake sale?”

“I’ll let you know,” Mr. Everett replies. “First I need to talk to the school administration and book a date. I’ll update you guys when I get to that.”

“Just in case if the bake sale isn’t enough, we can fundraise with chocolates,” Sarah suggests. “They practically sell themselves, especially around the Christmas season.”

Gabe nods to that. “They’re pretty popular. My sister sold five cases of chocolate bars when she was fundraising for her camping trip last year.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mr. Everett replies. “I also wanted to discuss which specialties I’ll be assigning to each of you.”

Gabe raises an eyebrow. “Specialties?”

“Each of you guys will be in charge of a category, and you pretty much have to know everything about it,” Mr. Everett explains. “There are three categories: Ancient History, 16th to 19th European Century Military History, and 20th Century History.”

“Arvo was always in charge of 16th to 19th European Century Military History,” Clementine says. “Do you mind if you take that category, Gabe?”

“I can do that,” Gabe replies. “How about you guys? Which categories are you taking?”

“Ancient History for me,” Sarah says, “and 20th Century History for Clementine. We’ve been specializing in these categories since we joined the team, so we’ve got pretty good knowledge on them already.”

Gabe sucks in a breath. “Guess I have to catch up to your guys’ level, huh?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sarah says. “Clem and I have come up with some fantastic studying strategies over the years. We’ll help you out. We’re a team.”

Gabe nods, smiling. “Good to know.”

“Thanks for taking that category on, Gabe. Now that we’ve settled our specialities,” Mr. Everett begins, “I also wanted to discuss our weekly meeting time. I understand that Clementine will be organizing some study sessions outside of school hours?”

Clementine nods. “We’re still figuring that out.”

“Let me know once you have,” Mr. Everett says. “Our arrangement last year for our club meetings was lunch hour on Tuesday and Thursday, and after school for an hour at 3:00 on Friday. Is that okay with everyone?”

Everyone nods.

“Wait,” Gabe says, raising his hand. “What’s the difference between the club meetings and the study sessions?”

“The club meetings are to help you guys prepare and get used to the tournament setting,” Mr. Everett replies. “I keep score, and you all get to use the buzzers when you answer the questions. I’ll also update you guys with any important information regarding the upcoming tournaments. We usually also touch base, update each other on our studying progress, and help each other out with studying if need be.”

“And the study sessions are just more for studying,” Clementine adds. “Even though we’re all in charge of different categories, the information usually overlaps, especially with my category and yours. We still need to review and study by ourselves, but the study sessions are really good for quizzing each other and strengthening our knowledge.”

“I see,” Gabe replies.

“Does anyone else have any more questions?” Mr. Everett asks. Everyone shakes their head. “Before I wrap up this meeting, just one more thing-” Mr. Everett hands them each a thick packet of papers, neatly stapled together. “Here are last year’s study guides for your respective categories. Thanks for staying, everyone. I’ll see you all at class tomorrow.”

------

“Hellooooo?” Duck waves a hand in front of Gabe’s face. Gabe rears back, blinking. “Earth to Gabe?” They’re in the basement of the Gordons’ house as they usually are after school. The GameCube is up and running (vintage and in perfect condition, Duck had relayed to Gabe when he bought it off his neighbour, Nick). A bowl of popcorn sits between them on the floor.

“Sorry,” Gabe mumbles. He squints at the TV screen, trying to will in concentration.

It’s really happening, it’s really fucking happening, has pretty much been the only thought that’s been running through Gabe’s head ever since the meeting ended. Sure, technically nothing has happened yet. But for Gabe, the meeting felt like some kind of first, real grasp on his future. A first step to all the blood, sweat, and tears to come, the calm before the storm. It's one thing to say he's going to join the team, it's another to actually make a commitment to this type of thing. Something flutters in his stomach, but Gabe can’t tell if it’s excitement or fear. On one hand, it’s a chance to finally prove himself to his dad. But on the other -- he is putting all his eggs in one basket, gambling his entire future on the off-chance of winning Nationals. Gabe gulps, his heart nervously drumming in his chest.

Duck pauses the game, sighing as he turns to Gabe. “All right, what’s up?”

Gabe huffs. “What do you mean, ‘what’s up?’”

“This is, like, the fifth game we’ve played,” Duck points out. “I just played Kirby for crying out loud, and you still somehow managed to lose to me.” He raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong with your car? Is Sexerella okay?”

“My car’s fine,” Gabe snaps. “And can you not say that out loud?” What if Clementine hears? are his unspoken thoughts.

“What? Sexerella?” Duck asks, shooting him a confused look.

Gabe cringes. “Yeah, that. What if your parents hear?” Gabe lies. “What if they think I’m, like, weird or something?”

Duck’s eyebrows raise even higher. “You know my parents could give two less shits about the name of your car. And you also know that my dad would think it’s hilarious.” Duck sighs, exasperated. “All right. Something’s clearly up.” He glares at him. “Spill.”

Gabe hates how well his best friend knows him sometimes. He sighs, admitting, “I don’t even know if I want to enlist anymore.”

Duck lets out a low whistle. “But it’s been your plan since like, forever?”

“Yeah, I know,” Gabe replies, frowning. “But it’s never been really my plan though.”

“Damn.” Duck furrows his eyebrows. “Your dad knows?”

Gabe shakes his head.

“Bummer,” Duck responds. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Gabe says quietly. “I’m still figuring it out. I’ll be fine.”

Duck nods. “If you say so.” He exits the pause menu and shuts the video game console off. “Wanna go skate? I’m a little tired of winning.”

Gabe snorts. “Ha ha,” he drones in a deadpan manner. “Wish I could, but I have to study.”

“You got that much homework already?”

“I joined AP World History. We’ve been assigned a lot of reading to do already,” Gabe replies. “And I also joined the History Bowl club as well.” He produces his study guide from his backpack. “This is the last year’s study guide for my category, 16th to 19th Century History.”

“So Clementine did manage to convince you,” Duck drawls. “Thank God. ” He breathes a sigh of relief.

Gabe feels his cheeks start to burn. “W-What?” Oh shit. Does Duck finally know about his totally lowkey crush on Clementine? I’m never gonna live this down, Gabe thinks as he bids a final farewell to his dignity.

“In case you said no, she was gonna get me to persuade you to join.” Duck shrugs, rolling his eyes. “That girl is too determined for her own good sometimes, lemme tell you.”

Gabe pauses, waiting for the oncoming onslaught of roasts. But Duck only looks at him expectantly. “Right,” Gabe replies after a beat. “Mind if I study here?”

“The dining room upstairs would be better, actually,” Duck suggests. “The lighting here is a little too dim. While you study, I,” Duck points to himself, “am going to edit some videos.”

“Still can’t believe you went viral,” Gabe scoffs.

“What can I say? The people love me and my content,” Duck knowingly states, grinning. The video in question that launched Duck into Internet fame (or infamy, depending on who you asked) was some surreal montage of rapid-cut footage from Spongebob Squarepants overlaid with a mashup of a certain Childish Gambino song and the state anthem of the Soviet Union. Gabe is as much of a meme-loving millennial as the next person, but even Duck’s depth of irony is completely lost on him. Still, Gabe was pretty impressed -- and proud, even -- when he heard of Duck’s overnight rise to fame.

Gabe rolls his eyes playfully. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

“I’m the humblest person you know,” Duck replies sarcastically. “What on earth could you be possibly talking about?”

Gabe only shakes his head, chuckling as the two friends climb up the stairs and head separate ways -- Duck to his room, and Gabe towards the dining room. His stomach flips when he spots Clementine at the dining table, slouching over a notebook, her brows furrowed in concentration. “Mind if I join you?” Gabe asks.

“Not at all,” Clementine replies without tearing her eyes away from her notebook.

Gabe pulls up a chair and sits across from her, and begins to scan through the study guide.

“Studying already?” Clementine asks. Gabe looks up and sees her staring at him, amused.

“Aren’t you’re studying too?” Gabe asks in return, pointing to her notebook.

Clementine shakes her head. “Not yet. Just figuring out my schedule so I can coordinate study sessions with you and Sarah -- two or three times a week, hopefully. We usually hold them at the diner, sometimes at the library. When are you free, by the way?”

“I usually work weekend mornings,” Gabe replies. “Occasionally my work calls me in for a closing shift on a weekday. And I also visit my grandpa on Sunday nights. Sometimes more throughout the week, depending on my dad.”

Clementine nods, jotting down in her notebook. “Sounds good. Why don’t you give me your number, so I can contact you and let you know when the next study sessions will be? I’ll give you my number too.” She hands Gabe her phone.

Gabe widens his eyes in surprise as they exchange phones, and types out his name and phone number in the Contacts app. This is probably the first time a girl has asked for his number. It’s not like she’s hitting on you or anything, Gabe reminds himself. Still… this is new. And kinda nice. He snaps a quick selfie and adds it as his contact photo.

They hand each other’s phones back. Gabe checks his Contacts. Clementine Fitzgerald. Her phone number. Oh, and she took a selfie too. Okay. Cool cool cool. No doubt, no doubt. It’s not like it’s really unfair how cute she is sometimes...

“Great,” Clementine says, snapping Gabe out of his thoughts. He tears his eyes from his phone as a blush starts to dust his face. “I’ll update you when Sarah lets me know her schedule.” “You bet,” he croaks.

---

There’s about an hour left in his shift when Gabe asks himself for the 20th time why taking the opening shift on a goddamn Saturday morning was a good idea. I could be sleeping right now, Gabe thinks to himself, like he does every Saturday morning. But gas and cellphone bills don’t pay for themselves.

He yawns surreptitiously and quickly rubs the sleep from his eyes before continuing to scan the items of the customer in front of him. If Gabe so much as paused for a second, Carver would ream his ass out. Something something productivity something something I ought to take a dime from your check yadda yadda. Gabe used to be terrified by his manager (okay he still kind of is, to be honest). But his supervisor Paul had pointed out that it’s illegal to reduce pay that’s already below minimum wage, so Gabe knows his manager is just yapping a bunch of horseshit. But still -- Carver is not the kind of guy you’d want to piss off.

The line of customers dissipates, and Gabe takes a brief moment to glance at the clock for the trillionth time. Gabe sighs to himself and considers grabbing a fourth cup of coffee after his shift when he spots a familiar figure walk through the automatic doors.

“Javi?” Gabe calls out from behind the counter. He waves, and his uncle waves back.

“Gabe!” Javi beams at him. “I didn’t know you were working today.”

“I’m working weekend mornings now,” Gabe replies. “Can’t work as much weekday afternoon and evening shifts like I did in the summer, because of school and all. Anyways, are you looking for something?”

“A picture frame, actually. It’s for a poster I got as a gift to myself.” Javi presents a thin cylinder of rolled up paper in his hand.

“A gift? What’s the occasion?”

Javi pauses, glancing around. “I’m five years sober today,” Javi says quietly and smiles. “I got myself a motivational poster.”

“It doesn’t have a cheesy quote, does it?” Gabe jokingly asks.

Javi shrugs. “A ship in harbor is safe -- but that is not what ships are built for. Is that cheesy?”

“It kinda is.” Gabe replies, grinning back. “But I’m glad, Javi.” He’d heard a bit about Javi’s partying antics from back in the day -- back when he still played baseball in the big leagues. Gabe only knows a few bits and pieces, mostly from his dad warning him to never go down that kind of path. “I’m really proud of you. Congratulations.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Javi replies fondly. “That means a lot.”

“Shit. I wish got you a card or something.” Gabe frowns, scratching the back of his head.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s no biggie.”

“This is an important milestone, so it kinda is,” Gabe insists. “Do you have plans later? My shift is ending soon. Let me treat you to lunch, whatever you want -- but that, er, won’t break the bank of a seventeen-year-old?”

Javi chuckles. “No, I don’t have plans. Unless you count hitting the gym and rewatching Hot Fuzz as plans?”

Gabe rolls his eyes playfully. “Amazing.”

“You’re the one who asked if I had plans, kiddo.”

“Fine, fine. But I meant like, if you have plans to celebrate with Pipo and Yaya?” Gabe asks. “Or Dad?” Gabe studies his uncle’s face: blank. Hesitant. “Wait -- do they even know?”

Javi shakes his head. “Honestly, they all have a lot on their plate,” Javi replies, looking away. “I didn’t want to burden them. They’ve got a lot to deal with right now.”

Gabe frowns, before boldly declaring: “Alrighty then. That settles it. Lunch is on me. And I’m getting you a card, too.” He tilts his chin up in determination, crossing his arms over his chest.

Javi smiles at him fondly. “You’re too sweet, Gabe.”

Gabe shrugs, waving his hands dismissively. “Don’t mention it. Anyways, so you were looking for a picture frame?”

“Right.”

“From the top of my head, I know we have some but they’re those small, photograph-sized types.” Gabe scratches his chin thoughtfully. “I can ask my supervisor, he’ll definitely know for sure.” Gabe leads his uncle to the Customer Service Support counter where Paul is standing behind.

“How’s it going, kid?” Paul asks.

“It’s going good,” Gabe replies. “My uncle, Javi, is looking for a poster-sized picture frame. Javi, this is my supervisor, Paul. We also call him Jesus.”

Paul laughs heartily as he shakes Javi’s hand. “Apparently, some of the kids here think I look like Jesus. I really don’t see the resemblance.” Truth be told, Paul resembled more of a hippie straight from those photos of the Vietnam War protests he’d seen in his textbooks -- long, flowing hair (which was styled into a neat bun today) and a full beard. Paul even acted like a hippie too, somewhat, with his kind face and easygoing demeanor. However, Gabe and his coworkers had decided that ‘John Lennon’ just wasn’t as good of a nickname as ‘Jesus.’

Javi’s eyes widen as he chuckles. “I don’t know what Jesus looks like, but if they’re referring to art from the Renaissance or something -- ” he grins, folding his arms over his chest and shifting his weight -- “then I see it.”

Wait.

What?

Paul raises his eyebrows and grins back. “Hilarious.” Gabe swears he spots a blush sweep across his supervisor’s face. “So, do you know the dimensions of the frame you’re looking for?”

“The poster’s eighteen by twenty-four.”

“Well, I can tell you that frames about that size aren’t in stock at the moment. But they’re available to order online through our website if you’d like? I can order it for you right now.”

“That’d be great, thanks.”

“Can he use my discount?” Gabe asks.

“For course, kid,” Paul replies, typing on his keyboard. “He belongs under ‘Friends and Family,’ does he not?” Paul scrunches his eyebrows together in concentration, clicking the mouse a few times before addressing Javi, “So, Javi. Would you like a frame with or without a floating edge?”

“What’s a floating edge?” Javi asks.

Paul explains, “So, you’d have your picture -- or poster, in your case -- right in the center of the mat, which creates a border around the picture. Personally, I think it contrasts beautifully with the picture, especially if the mat is white and the frame is black. But the frame would have to be a little larger than the poster, so it might cost more.”

“You know what, let’s go for that,” Javi replies. “You seem to have a pretty good eye for beauty, and I --” Javi’s eyes sweep up and down Paul -- “like to think I do as well.” He leans on the counter.

Gabe’s jaw drops to the floor. Holy shit. Did a) Gabe just become the third wheel and b) when did his uncle have so much game?!

Paul’s eyes widen and he smiles back, amused. He shoots Javi a similar, sweeping glance. “I guess great minds do think alike.”

Help me, Gabe internally pleads to no higher power in particular.

Paul clears his throat. “So, um, you can just swipe your card there, and frame will arrive in store at about two days time. Unless you’d like it delivered to you instead?”

“I think I’ll just pick it up from here,” Javi responds as he swipes his credit card into the machine.

“Sounds good. Leave your phone number with us and we’ll let you know when your frame arrives,” Paul says. Gabe notes from the corner of his eye, the slight enthusiasm of his uncle as he jots down his number on a piece of paper and slides it over to Paul. “Well, I hope you enjoy your picture frame. You have a good day,” Paul says before turning to Gabe, “Need anything before I go on my break, kid?”

“I’m good,” Gabe replies.

“Okay, catch you later then.” Paul takes his leave with a wave of a hand.

Gabe turns to his uncle, about to say something when he notices Javi staring after Paul.

“You know,” Gabe begins, “there’s a Bed Bath and Beyond just down the block? I’m sure they have what you’re looking for. Why not just go there instead of waiting for two days to get your frame?”

Javi hums absentmindedly.

“Javi?”

Javi continues to stare.

“Hellooooo?”

Nothing.

“Hey Javi, I murdered a man in cold blood last night.”

“That’s nice, Gabe,” Javi mumbles.

Gabe rolls his eyes. “I know you like him, Javi.”

That finally seems to snap Javi out of it. “Uhhh, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Javi scoffs. “You’re crazy.”

Gabe raises an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. Oh, this is gonna be fun, he can’t help but think. “So you totally didn’t just hit on my supervisor, Paul?”

Javi rolls his eyes. “No, I didn’t.” But a telltale flush across his cheeks indicates otherwise. “I was just being friendly.”

“Yeah, okay.” Gabe smirks. “I mean, I have his number if you want it?” Gabe offers. Javi rolls his eyes at him again. “Don’t roll your eyes at me. You just gave your number to him.”

“So he could call me when my frame arrives, obviously.” Javi glares at him.

“Javi. Come on.” Gabe pats his uncle on the arm. “Let me help you out. I’m kind of the best wingman ever, don’t you know?”

Javi scoffs. “Oh really? Since when?”

“Practically since I was born!” Gabe objects. “I know that when I was like, four or five you’d bring me to the park so all the girls from your school would fawn over you!”

“I did end up dating the head cheerleader in my senior year,” Javi states, shrugging. “But that’s because of my charm and rugged good looks, not because of you.”

“Riiiiiight,” Gabe says sarcastically. “But just admit it: four-year-old me has definitely scored you dates.”

“Okay, you might have,” Javi admits, grinning.

“So are you going to let me wingman you or what?”

“There’s nothing to wingman, Gabe,” Javi replies. “I don’t have a crush on your supervisor, the way you totally don’t have a crush on Clementine.” Now it’s Javi’s turn to smirk.

Gabe raises his eyebrows in surprise, completely caught off guard. “Yeah totally,” he chokes out.

“So it’s not a problem or anything if we, I don’t know, go to the Gordons’ diner for lunch later today?” Javi asks in a suspiciously casual tone of voice.

“It’s not a problem.” Gabe forces a smile, teeth gritting. “At all.” You snake, he adds in his head as he restrains himself from openly glaring at Javi. Is this Game of Thrones?!

“Great,” Javi replies, his smile growing wider. “I’ll see you after your shift, then.”

Gabe still gets a card for Javi because he’s not a total asshole, alright? As he drives them to the Gordons’ diner, Gabe prays that Clementine isn’t working today.

And God does not answer this prayer either.

“Hey guys!” Clementine greets them as they enter the diner. She’s sporting an easy smile and an apron around her waist. A few curly strands of her hair escape the low bun she’s wearing today, gracefully framing her face. Gabe has to remind himself to look away. “What brings you here?”

“Gabe here is treating me out for lunch,” Javi answers before Gabe can get a chance to speak. “He didn’t have to, but he really insisted.” He places a hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “I’m lucky to have him as my nephew.”

“Heh,” is the most intelligent thing Gabe can come up with at the moment.

“That’s really sweet.” Clementine offers Gabe a smile that sends his heart racing. “You guys go ahead and find a seat, I’ll be with you shortly.”

Gabe and Javi find an empty booth and sit. “You see, Gabe? That’s wingmanning,” Javi says with a shit-eating grin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Javi rolls his eyes and snorts. “Okay then.”

Clementine arrives with two menus and glasses of water. “Can I get you guys anything to drink while you look at the menu?”

“Coffee for me, please,” Gabe answers.

“With cream?” Clementine asks.

“Yes please,” Gabe replies. “I’m still not quite awake yet, to be honest.”

“Up early today?”

“Yup. Opening shift.”

“Ah.” Clementine nods. “Where do you work, by the way?”

“At Howe’s Hardware Store, the one near Main Street,” Gabe replies.

“Nice. And how about you, Javi?”

“Just some cold water would be fine,” Javi responds.

“Sounds good. I’ll be right back with your drinks.” Clementine walks away to retrieve their drinks.

“How’s your abuelo?” Javi asks. “You guys visited him the other day, right?”

Gabe nods. “Yeah, we did. He’s doing alright, I guess. We brought the box of tapes you gave me, and played a few games of dominoes with him. Pipo really seemed to enjoy himself while we were there.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Javi says, just as Clementine brings their drinks.

“Ready to order?” Clementine asks the two.

“Yeah. I’ll have a cheeseburger with fries,” Gabe replies.

“A cup of the chicken noodle soup for me, as well as the house salad,” Javi says.

“What kind of dressing would you like?” Clementine asks.

“Vinaigrette, but on the side, please.”

“Alrighty then,” Clementine says as she jots down their orders on a small notepad. “I’ll be right back with your food.” She takes her leave.

“Salad?” Gabe gawks at his uncle incredulously. “Really, Javi? We’re celebrating and you’re gonna eat salad?”

“You’re seventeen,” Javi remarks. “You’ve got the metabolism of a cheetah. You can practically eat anything you want and get away with it.” Javi points to himself as he says, “Not so much when you’re nearing thirty.”

“Wow, you’re old.”

Javi snorts before chuckling. “Just watch, kid. You’ll be thirty yourself before you even know it.”

“Hmm. No thanks,” Gabe replies, shaking his head. “I’ll take ‘Never Growing Up’ for $500, please.”

“But you grew up so fast, though,” Javi points out. “It only feels like yesterday that I was changing your diapers.”

“Dad said something like that to me last week.”

“Go figure. You’re graduating high school this year, aren’t you?”

“Yup.” Gabe nods.

“How’s your senior year going so far?” Javi asks.

“It’s not so bad,” Gabe replies. “I’m taking AP World History. Oh, and I also joined the History Bowl team.”

“Look at you, smartie pants.” Javi nudges at his arm from across the table. “I think that’s great, Gabe. I wish I was more studious when I was your age.”

“What did you do in your senior year?” Gabe questions. “Well, aside from dating the head cheerleader, that is.”

Javi chuckles. “Skipped class and played baseball,” Javi replies, shaking his head. “I’m surprised I even graduated, honestly.”

"Nice," Gabe remarks playfully. “So, uh, five years, right?” he asks.

“Five years,” Javi repeats. “God, I was a completely different person back then.”

“Is it weird that I sort of still remember the headlines you made?” Gabe briefly recalls the surges of pride -- and embarrassment -- he felt at seeing his uncle’s name plastered on newspapers and on the internet.

“The good headlines or the bad ones?” Javi asks.

“Both,” Gabe admits.

Javi chuckles. “No, it’s not weird at all. I admit, I’ve done plenty of newsworthy things. Both brilliant and stupid.” Javi shakes his head, sighing. Whether out of regret or reminiscence, Gabe is not so sure.

“Do you miss baseball?” Gabe asks quietly.

“Everyday,” Javi admits. “But I wouldn’t trade it for what I have now. I’ve taken responsibility for myself. I’m in control of my life. I’ve gotten better, and I’m continuing to get better.” His uncle meets his gaze with a wide smile. “I’m happy.”

Gabe smiles back. “I’m glad. By the way, do people still recognize you?”

“Not as much as before, actually,” Javi replies. “Must be the beard.”

“Wish I could grow one,” Gabe says, frowning as he rubs a hand over his own beardless face.

“Maybe one day,” Javi responds. “But your dad could never grow a beard, so I doubt it.” He laughs. “Sorry, bud.”

“Let me dream, okay?” Gabe chuckles.

“Just curious,” Javi begins, “but has your dad ever talked about… you know.” Javi pauses, finding the right words. “All the shenanigans I was up to before I started recovering?”

“Not really,” Gabe responds. “He only said that you gambled a lot and drank too much. Never really went into the details. He... also said to never be like you.” Gabe winces when the words leave his mouth.

Javi shrugs indifferently. “Well, he’s not wrong. Back then, if I wasn’t at the casino, I was at the bar.”

“Well, you got better,” Gabe points out, frowning. “That’s what matters now, right?”

Javi smiles. “I really appreciate it, Gabe. And as much as that means a lot,” Javi says, “your dad is right.”

“If you’re about to give me a ‘don’t drink’ or ‘don’t gamble’ lecture, I’ve probably heard it.” Gabe remarks playfully.

“I imagine your dad has told you countless of times.” Javi grins wryly. “But serious talk.” He clasps his hands together. “The reason why I did all that was -- well, I didn’t realize it at the time, but looking back now…” Javi pauses, a hesitant look flashing across his features.

“You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Gabe quietly reassures him.

Javi shakes his head. “It’s okay,” Javi replies. “I just wanted to say that, well, I didn’t like asking for help when things got hard. I refused to. Drinking and gambling… it was how I coped.” Javi sighs. “So, if you ever need help with anything, come talk to me, okay? I’m here for you, Gabe.”

Gabe nods. “Okay. I will. Thanks, Javi.”

Their food arrives shortly after, and they dig in. Gabe doesn’t realize how hungry he is until he takes a bite into his burger, savouring the melted cheese and crisp slices of red onion before practically inhaling his fries.

When they’re finished, Gabe pays for their meals (“Isn’t he so kind?” Javi says pointedly to Clementine, and wiggles his eyebrows at Gabe when she’s not looking. Gabe has half a mind to lunge at his uncle from across the table.)

Gabe drops Javi off at his apartment before he heads home.

“Working overtime today, mijo?” His dad asks when Gabe steps inside the house.

“No, I was just having lunch with Javi,” Gabe replies. “He’s five years sober today.”

“Oh.” His dad makes that mostly unreadable and slightly constipated face he always makes when they’re talking about Javi. But his voice is soft and sincere when he says, “That’s good to know. Tell him my congratulations.”

Why not tell him yourself? Gabe wants to say. “I’ll let him know,” he says instead before heading to his room.

Gabe crashes onto his bed, feeling his eyelids start to droop heavily (despite the four cups of coffee he’s had today) when his phone beeps.

Clementine Fitzgerald (2:12 PM): Hey, are you free tomorrow for a study session? Sarah and I will be at the diner. 12pm.

Gabe immediately bolts upright. Shit. Okay. Fuck. Is he free tomorrow at 12:00 PM? Gabe runs through the shape of tomorrow’s day in his head. No work. Visiting Pipo later in the evening. Will probably just be doing homework and playing video games.

Okay, so he’s free. But how does he reply? What does he say?! Okay is a little too much like k, and k is pretty much code for ‘I don’t care.’ But Gabe does care about History Bowl, but he doesn’t care so much to the point that it’s really weird? What about a thumbs up emoji? No, it’s practically the same as ‘k.’ A gif? Playful and friendly enough, but it could also be a little unclear...

Dammit. Stop overthinking, Garcia. Gabe types out a message and sends it before he can give himself another minute to mull over it.

Gabe Garcia (2:14 PM): Sounds good!! I’ll be there.

(He sends a gif of Keanu Reeves giving a thumbs up for good measure.)

Nailed it.

His phone beeps, signalling a reply from Clementine.

Clementine Fitzgerald (2:15 PM): Great. See you tomorrow.

Gabe wants to breathe a sigh of relief but finds himself staring at his screen, thumbs hovering over the keypad. He wants to say something more, but talking to girls has never really been his forte.

Fuck it. Seize the day. Gabe types out a reply before he can second guess himself.

Gabe Garcia (2:16 PM): You off work?

Seems simple enough.

Clementine Fitzgerald (2:17 PM): No, I’m on my break.

Gabe Garcia (2:17 PM): Cool

“Way to keep the conversation going, Gabe,” he mutters to himself. Just as Gabe is about to put down his phone, his phone beeps again.

Clementine Fitzgerald (2:18 PM): Your uncle seems really proud of you.

Clementine Fitzgerald (2:18 PM): Just something I noticed when you guys were here today

Gabe widens his eyes in surprise. Well. Okay then. Maybe Javi isn’t totally awful, after all...

Gabe Garcia (2:18 PM): Yeah, Javi and I are really close :)

Gabe Garcia (2:19 PM): He’s a really corny guy tbh but I put up with it since he’s family and all :p

Clementine Fitzgerald (2:19 PM): I know the feeling. Kenny makes the worst dad jokes but he’s the best so it’s ok :)

Clementine Fitzgerald (2:20 PM): Anyways, I need to get back to work. Talk to you later?

Gabe Garcia (2:20 PM): Yeah, talk to you later

Gabe Garcia (2:20 PM): Have fun at work!!

Clementine Fitzgerald (2:21 PM): Haha, I wish :)